


be my shrink for the hour

by spikenard



Series: you know you're still number one [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Daddy Kink, F/F, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:59:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6121780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikenard/pseuds/spikenard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And she didn’t mean to make it an order — she never tells Alex what to do, because Alex never listens, and Burr doesn’t like that reminder — but Alex looks up at her for a moment, makes eye contact, and says, “Okay.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	be my shrink for the hour

**Author's Note:**

> so, uh. more of this. some discussion of drug use (alcohol, nicotine, prescription, and recreational).
> 
> thank you to [rosening](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rosening/) for feedback throughout and to [scioscribe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/scioscribe/) for looking over the finished product!

Hamilton is a flirt. She’s not a lady — no one would ever _mistake_ her for a lady — but she does have a curious sort of — honor, almost, to her, one that takes Burr a while to notice.

Hamilton kisses and tells — not with whom she’s done things, but she’ll go into detail, loves drinking games and bragging about all the shit she’s done. 

She drags Burr to sit with her friends, now; no one knows about them, but it’s easier for them to go home together if they stay near each other when they’re drinking, so Aaron gets to hear about that shit, too. She liked it better when she didn’t have to think about Hamilton, what Hamilton thinks about the people she’s slept with, how Aaron measures up. 

Hamilton’s a lightweight, buys a drink with four shots in it, downs it in one go, and she’s done for the night. 

She’s not supposed to be drinking on her meds, Burr assumes. She doesn’t know exactly what medication Hamilton’s on — she knows it’s a cocktail, two or three medications and then another half-dozen to balance out the side effects from the first few— but she does know you can’t drink on mood stabilizers. Burr saw the script bottle for lithium on her dresser, the one time they fucked in Hamilton’s dorm room; she googled, when she got home. 

She’s not Hamilton’s keeper, though; but whenever Hamilton’s out with her friends and Burr can’t weasel out of drinking with them, Laurens turns into an awful mother hen. Burr can’t stand it. That one time they fucked at Hamilton’s only happened because Laurens had been out of town visiting family; neither Burr nor Hamilton has family to visit. Aaron spent three straight nights in Alex’s room that week; she hasn’t been in there before or since. Alex didn’t take her meds once the whole time, and Burr didn’t ask.

Laurens _worries_ about Hamilton, though, and Alex lets her, not that she _listens_ , necessarily — she drinks anyway, goes off her meds, but she allows Laurens to tell her off, leans in and lets Laurens check her pulse; it fills Burr with a sick, swooping sort of anxiety.

Hamilton also has Washington, and that’s fine. And she’s got Aaron. 

Burr tries to keep her too busy to sleep with other people, not that she could stop it if Hamilton decided to, but... Hamilton _lives_ with Laurens; every time she won’t stay overnight in Burr’s cramped studio, Aaron knows she’s going home to Laurens. 

At least she comes home with Burr first. 

###

They’re all out drinking at a bar close to Burr’s apartment, not quite on campus; they’re not the only group of students there, but they’re probably the rowdiest. 

Burr drinks here because this place is close to her apartment. She doesn’t know why Alex and her friends chose to drink here, rather than at the grad bar at the university. It’s not like this place doesn’t card, or whatever; Lafayette still needs to use her fake to get in. 

They’re playing “Never Have I Ever”, again; Burr doesn’t get how they can play this game at least once a month. Don’t they all already know all this shit about each other?

The game has devolved into specific potshots; the statements are no longer general. Burr likes the game best when she can be vague. 

It’s hard for her to think of things she hasn’t done, generally, but she comes up with several in advance and sits on them until it’s her time. Unlike Hamilton, already tipsy before they even start, who makes a grand production each time it’s her turn and she can’t think of something. 

“Never have I ever had sex with a man,” she says, when it’s her turn. 

“I wish I could drink on that one,” Lafayette laughs, while fidgeting with her shotglass; everyone else pours another shot to drink. 

Laurens grimaces at Burr, after, wrinkles her nose and rolls her eyes; she’s incredibly beautiful. “I wish I didn’t have to,” she says.

Hamilton spills her shot all over herself, though, misses her mouth trying to drink. She’s staring at Burr; they’re not next to each other, so Hamilton eels herself over Mulligan’s lap to squeeze in next to Aaron. 

“Really?” Alex asks. “Never?” 

Aaron shakes her head. 

“I didn’t know you were gay,” Alex says into her ear. 

“Really,” Aaron murmurs, turning her face to brush against Hamilton’s cheek, her voice flat. “You had no idea?” 

Alex laughs. Aaron hadn’t been trying to be funny, but she can feel herself smiling a little. This is awful; this game gives away too much. Aaron’s letting her cards show. She’s pretty sure Laurens is staring at them. 

“I’m not a _lesbian_ ,” Aaron says, in an attempt to pull some truths back up her sleeve, “but it’s your turn, you just made it your turn, cutting in front of Mulligan like that. And maybe you should cut back a little,” she says, fishing Alex’s sticky shotglass out of her hand and sliding it over to Laurens. “Switch to water.” 

And she didn’t mean to make it an order — she never tells Alex what to do, because Alex never listens, and Burr doesn’t like that reminder — but Alex looks up at her for a moment, makes eye contact, and says, “Okay.” 

Aaron doesn’t know what to do with that. She gets her canteen out of her purse, though, hands it to Alex. “You can drink from that,” she says. She glances over at Laurens, whose gaze is impassive. She nods at Aaron, though, gives her a tiny thumbs up, before turning Alex’s shot glass upside down on the table.

“It’s your turn now, Alex,” Lafayette says. “Come on! Do a good one. I have not been able to drink in _ages_.” 

Alex laughs. “Fine,” she says. “Fine. Uh. Never have I ever done coke,” she says, and Burr raises her eyebrows. Lafayette’s drinking and saying something about partying in France. So Alex was targeting her with that statement, okay, but — really? _Alex Hamilton_ , the very definition of manic poor decision-making, has never tried coke?

Alex doesn’t turn towards her, but she says, “Don’t give me that look. I don’t do drugs. And anyway, uppers and I don’t get along.” 

“Aren’t you on Adderall?” Burr asks. She doesn’t know that for sure, but she’s seen Hamilton take pills that look like Aaron’s tiny stash, sometimes, before she starts studying.

“I never take it,” Alex says, and shrugs. “It fucks up my other shit.” 

Burr doesn’t know what other shit Hamilton’s talking about. She doesn’t know what Alex’s diagnoses are; she doesn’t know anything about Hamilton at all, it feels like.

“All the easy ones are gone,” Mulligan is complaining; Alex perks up. 

“Say you’ve never eaten ass!” she cries.

Mulligan, laughing, repeats it — “Never have I ever rimmed anyone” — and Alex takes a sip of water from Aaron’s canteen, making coy eyes at the whole table. She’s so showy. Who the fuck does she do this shit with? How is it so easy for her to talk about?

Lafayette, up next, says something Aaron doesn’t want to think about too closely about dildos shaped like horse penises — Mulligan, complaining, does another shot; apparently that was targeted; okay, that’s more than Burr ever wanted to know about these people — and then it’s Laurens’ turn. 

“Give me a second,” she says, “I’m thinking.” 

“Say you’ve never spanked anyone,” Alex says; Laurens gives her a dubious glance. “Hey, I haven’t either! This is altruism, I only like it the other way. I’m not trying to get myself to drink again, honest,” Alex protests. 

Laurens, grinning, repeats her — “Never have I ever spanked anyone. Sexually,” she tacks on, seemingly just for good measure.

Burr does her shot; she doesn’t realize until she’s done that she’s the only one who drank on that round. Lafayette looks thrilled; Mulligan says, “Damn, you a freak,” in a congratulatory tone and reaches over Hamilton to clap a heavy hand on one of Aaron’s shoulders. 

Aaron suddenly feels hot and cold all over, mortified. Her face is burning. She didn’t eat enough before she started drinking, probably; her stomach feels off.

That was private, that was something she’s only ever done with Alex. Does Hamilton talk about this? About what they do together? Burr feels like everyone must know that she did this to — that she and Alex — they were supposed to be a secret. 

Alex doesn’t want anyone to know about them, she must not; it’s not like keeping a secret is her default state; she could have — would have — said something at any point in time, unless she had a reason to keep this, keep them quiet. 

Burr wonders if everyone knows, if all of them know, if they’ve known this whole time, what she does to Alex. 

What Hamilton does to her.

It’s her turn. She doesn’t want any of them to look at her.

“Never have I ever,” she snaps, feeling like she’s outside of her body, like she has no control over what comes out of her mouth, “fucked a professor.” 

She only ever feels like this around Hamilton, she only loses control because of — what Alex does to her. 

No one pours a shot, or says anything. Aaron is still furious. She looks up, makes eye contact with Laurens, who looks a little taken aback. None of them have heard Aaron use that tone before, she realizes. She wonders if this is what it feels like to be Hamilton. To be angry, and let people notice.

“Alex,” she says, slowly, like Hamilton’s stupid. Burr can’t pull her gaze away from Laurens, doesn’t know what this will do to her — finishes her sentence: “that means you have to drink.”

Burr glances at Mulligan, but she’s facing away. Lafayette lets out a little noise of surprise; Laurens blurts out “what?” 

Alex unscrews the top of Burr’s canteen and takes a long sip, holding eye contact with Aaron. When she’s done, she lets out a breath, and then wipes her mouth with the back of her wrist, the same way she does when her mouth’s wet with Aaron. 

“Burr,” Alex says. Her tone is awful to hear; Aaron feels victorious and full of regret, all at the same time. “Can I talk to you. Privately.” 

###

Aaron thinks Alex is just going to drag her to the bathroom hallway or the alley out back to yell at her, or something, but Hamilton says her goodbyes and picks up her things.

“We’re going back to your place,” Hamilton says, her tone still ugly, the bones in her fingers pressing hard into Aaron’s elbow. 

Aaron glances back at the table; Hercules is calling for more booze, Lafayette’s curled closer to Laurens, pressing her hand into Laurens’ shoulder. Laurens is looking down, but Burr saw her face before they got up; she looked...

Well. There’s no way she already knew. Burr feels bad about that, faintly, behind everything else she’s feeling right now.

They make it outside, and it’s chilly, but not so chilly that the city doesn’t still stink, steam rising from the vents in the sidewalk. Aaron inhales a little despite herself. Smells like home. 

Alex lets go of Burr’s elbow once they’re a block away from the bar, two blocks away from Aaron’s place. 

“Okay,” she says. “Okay. We’re going to go to your place, but first I — you need to give me a cigarette. I know you smoke,” Alex adds, “your mouth sometimes tastes like — and I found a lighter in your jacket the other day when I took it by accident.” 

“The lighter was my dad’s,” Aaron says, stupidly, despite herself. She hates this. Truths are spilling out of her, uncontrollable. 

She blinks, hard, takes a breath. “I don’t smoke. I mean, I’m quitting,” but she’s already digging through her purse for her emergency pack. It’s almost empty, crud; she just bought it last month. “I didn’t know you did,” she adds as she sticks a cigarette in Alex’s mouth and lights it. 

“I don’t have my anti-anxiety meds,” Hamilton says around the cigarette, “and I need to not be panicking right now. Or nauseous.” 

Aaron waits for Hamilton to ask why she said that, earlier, why Burr spilled her secrets. But she doesn’t; Alex just leans against a stone building, shuts her eyes and sucks down the cigarette, furiously. She’s done smoking it in about a minute; she only breaks off to cough twice. 

“Another one,” Alex says, grinding the butt out under her shoe. Aaron lights another cigarette, no commentary. Hamilton takes a drag and sighs, and then passes the cigarette over to Aaron. 

“You should take it,” she says, “sober up. Before we get back to yours.” 

Aaron does. She can taste Hamilton’s lipstick against her teeth, an indirect kiss. 

###

In the elevator, Alex says, “I’d offer to loan you some smokes back, but I don’t... Jenny doesn’t let me smoke.” 

Who’s Jenny, Aaron thinks, blank.

“It’s hard, living with a med student,” Alex says, brittle fake-joking tone that’s almost worse than the clipped nightmare she’d been using earlier. 

Oh. Laurens. Of course. 

###

Hamilton lets them into Burr’s apartment; she keeps the spare key on her university lanyard. Burr has been chewing over an apology this whole time, turning it over in her mouth, pressing her tongue around it, like it’s an overchewed wad of gum she hasn’t been able to spit out. 

“Can I stay here tonight?” Alex says, dropping her things by the door and toeing her heels off. She’s Aaron’s height, with them on; it’s always a shock to see her drop down a few inches as she strips. 

That’s not what Aaron thought would — but okay. “Sure,” she says. “You know I don’t mind.” 

Alex throws her a look over her shoulder. “You never let me stay over,” she says, and Aaron burns. 

“That’s not true,” she protests. “You always leave. And I just — I don’t want Laurens to worry. If you’re out all night.” 

Alex rolls her eyes, and she must have been unbuttoning her shirt, because she pulls it off and drops it on the floor. 

“Okay,” she says. “Whatever. Are you coming?” 

“Are you serious?” Aaron asks. “You’re just going to — we’re not going to talk about this?” 

Alex shrugs. “What’s there to talk about?”

“I just told all your friends about —” Aaron says, but Hamilton cuts her off.

Alex rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t asking you to keep secrets for me,” she says. “I figured you probably told people already. Other people. Your friends. I had to tell Washington someone knew, she’s been waiting for the administration to —” 

“I never told anyone,” Aaron says, the words coming out in a disbelieving rush. “I wouldn’t do that to you.“

Alex scowls. “I’m not the one who’d get in trouble for it. She’s —” 

Aaron shakes her head. “I wouldn’t. You know I wouldn’t. And — your friends won’t, either, you know that, too.” 

"They're your friends too," is all Hamilton says to that. She's undoing her pants, pulling them off. Okay. If that’s what she wants, Aaron can —

“I just don’t understand,” she hears herself saying, carefully, oh so careful, “what you see in her. She's a great woman, I get it, but. She’s old enough to be your mother. And the sex can’t be that good, you told me she doesn’t do things. For you.” 

Alex turns her head. A curl falls into her face. “She doesn’t need to.” 

“What?” Aaron says. “Yes, she does. You’re the one who’s always talking about how you stopped sleeping with guys because they didn’t get you off, and you’re fine with her never touching —” 

“No,” Alex says, and she’s blushing a little, hectic and high on her cheeks, as she pulls off her bra. “No, I mean — she doesn’t need to, because I — without her having to.” 

“Oh,” Aaron says. She feels strangely bereft, all of a sudden; she knows she’s good in bed, and since Hamilton started letting Burr touch her, she knows she hasn’t given Alex cause for complaint.

She thinks back on the first time she got Alex to come, the first time she touched her. She hadn’t even needed to get Alex naked, she’d just stroked her lightly and —

“Does she,” Aaron says, and licks her lips. Pauses. 

Alex pushes her panties off her hips, leaves them puddled on the floor. “Does she what?” 

Careful, Burr think to herself. Careful. Hamilton needs a light hand; this is the one thing she can’t quite talk about. 

She’ll admit to things she’s done, cheerfully, talk anonymous filth and the hazy nonsense of desire with her friends. But here in Burr’s quiet room, in a library study carrel, in the single-occupant bathroom in the student center, in the alleyway behind the bar they just came from; once, dizzyingly, in Washington’s office while she was presenting at a conference, with a chair under the doorknob to keep the door shut and Burr sitting on her desk, her heart hammering in her chest and Hamilton on her knees — there, she won’t confess to anything. 

“Does she,” Burr repeats. She’s not sure how to finish her sentence, she’s not sure how to bring this up. “She’s old enough to be your mother,” Aaron says again, and it’s the wrong thing to say; Hamilton’s face shutters.

She’s lying on her back in Aaron’s bed, by now, naked but not quite impatient, not quite welcoming. 

“She’s not my mother,” Hamilton says. “I don’t need parenting. Not from her, not from anyone.” 

“No,” Burr says, “I know that. But does she — I don’t think she...” 

And she has to stop again, there. 

She did reading, at first, looking for the words to explain how Hamilton acted around her, before she knew about Washington. There are ways to describe what Hamilton likes, the way she is, but Aaron knows she won’t want to hear them. 

To Alex, praise kink means attention starved; wanting to be held down, maybe bossed around, says something nasty about her relationship with authority; the way she needs Aaron to bring her down to reality when she’s too big for her skin makes her a crazy bitch. 

Alex doesn’t even like it when Burr calls her gorgeous, or responsive; she has, however, tried to get Aaron to call her a slut.

Alex overthinks everything, except when she doesn’t. Burr just knows what she likes.

“I don’t think,” Aaron says, finally, “she appreciates how good you can be.” 

Finally, she thinks, at the way Alex’s expression shifts, finally. The right words.

###

Several extremely enjoyable minutes and one ruined pair of pants later, Aaron’s tucked into bed next to Alex, whose chest is still heaving, trying to calm her breathing.

Aaron’s not changing; she’s still fully dressed, and her thigh is sticky even through the fabric. She strokes at Alex’s hair; Hamilton’s head is pillowed against her shoulder. Occasionally she presses a kiss against Aaron’s bra. 

This is nice, Aaron thinks. Alex had let Aaron touch her, ease a shuddery quiet orgasm out of her; then pressed a knee up between her legs, pushed her shirt up around her collarbones and bitten at her breasts through her bra until Aaron came, shuddering hard, and then ground out another orgasm of her own against Aaron’s thigh. Fumbly, quick, half-satisfying orgasms all around; they’ve had worse sex, and drunker sex, but this was... far better than Aaron expected the evening to turn out.

They lie like that, Aaron staring at the ceiling. Aaron’s nipples are throbbing against the lace of her bra. She assumes Hamilton is dozing, when: 

“She doesn’t,” Hamilton says. 

“Who? Doesn’t what?” Aaron asks, still petting Hamilton’s hair. 

“Washington,” Alex says. “She doesn’t do this shit for me.” 

If Aaron stops petting Alex’s hair, if she tenses up at all, if she says the wrong thing, Hamilton will stop talking about this, change the subject to whatever bullshit she’s trying to organize this week. 

“Mm?” Aaron says, and tucks a curled coil of hair behind Hamilton’s ear. It’s strange, how difficult neutrality and restraint suddenly feel. 

“It’s just...” Hamilton says, and shifts onto her side, bumps against Aaron’s hip until she makes a little more space in the bed. “I mean. I couldn’t ever ask her. She wants...” 

Aaron stays quiet.

“She wants more from me than I have to offer,” Alex says, incredulous. “I don’t know what, because she’s — but maybe she wants date me?”

“You’re not, though, right? Because you don’t do exclusivity,” Aaron says. Alex makes a noise in her throat, looks at Aaron. She leans in to kiss her; Burr licks at Alex’s lips, over the hard edges of her teeth. 

“No,” Alex says, softly, after pulling away. Her eyes are bright. “I don’t.”

Aaron still has her hand in Alex’s hair. She pulled it out of its ponytail earlier. She tugs a little. 

“What do you have to offer, then? How do you want it?” Aaron says. 

Alex shuts her eyes. “What,” she breathes, and Aaron tugs at her hair again; Alex has to swallow a moan and clear her throat. She tries again: “What do you want?” 

“No way,” Aaron says, “no way, baby.” She pinches one of Alex’s nipples, digs her thumbnail into it hard enough that goosebumps prickle up on the swell of Alex’s breast. “You have to tell me.” 

They haven’t done this before. Aaron has always been very careful to let Alex lead them, to let Alex set the terms, because she doesn’t want this to stop. But she wants to know this. 

She wants to know Hamilton, wants to get past Alex’s played up oversexed act, past the bluster and the automatic way she begs, to get at — Aaron wants to get at the core of Hamilton, the truth of her, wants to open her up, aches to understand her.

She pinches down again, and leans down to lick around her fingers, tease over her areola. Alex gasps. Aaron pulls away.

“Tell me,” she says. 

Hamilton’s eyes are shut. Aaron thumbs over her nipple again. She’s not going to force it; she’s more than willing to let this drop. 

“You know what I like,” Hamilton says, finally. Her eyes are still closed. 

“There’s something you’re not getting,” Aaron says. “From Washington. I’ll give it to you. Whatever it is.”

“There’s a lot I’m not getting from Washington,” Alex says. Snaps, almost. She opens her eyes on a glare, the way Aaron imagines she must wake up in the morning, going straight from drooling on her textbook to fight-ready. 

“Alright,” Aaron says, her tone still even. “There’s something you’re not getting from me. I’ll give it to you.”

She would, she thinks, as she smooths her hand over Alex’s sweet tired face. “Even if it’s weird,” Aaron adds. “You think I’m gonna judge you?” 

“No, I know,” Alex says, her voice bored, which means she’s being sincere. “You’re gonna take care of me.” 

“Yeah,” Aaron says, leaning up to kiss Alex’s neck; Hamilton splutters against her hair. “I am. Someone’s got to. You need this, gotta get it somewhere. I’ve got you.” 

“Sure,” Alex says, rolling her eyes, “whatever you say, daddy,” and her tone’s still sarcastic, but there’s something in it —

“What?” Aaron says, bewildered, and sits up. She wants a better view of Alex’s face. “What did you —”

Alex shrugs. “You were — what’s this shit about _taking care of me_ , I don’t need —” 

“Yeah,” Aaron says, “you really do,” but Alex looks so uncomfortable, like she just said more than she meant to. That’s a look Aaron knows; she sees it on herself all the time. 

Burr is suddenly acutely aware that she’s still dressed, if rumpled, and that Hamilton is naked. Hamilton seems to become aware of that at the same time she does, because Alex tries to pull the blankets up; Aaron has to stop her hand. 

“You need me,” Aaron says carefully, and she was going to add _to take care of you_ , but Alex is already nodding, already leaning towards her. 

“Yeah,” she mutters, “I — I do, I really do, thank you —” 

Alex is sucking in huge breaths, pressing her lips together, but the words are coming out anyway, like she can’t help it. She’s pressing her thighs together, shifting her hips; she’s going to want Aaron to start touching her again in about a minute, that’s what that means.

Aaron bites her lip. 

“You can say it,” she says, touching Alex’s mouth, rubbing her finger over her chapped lips. “Whatever it is, I wanna hear you. Tell me.” 

“ _Daddy_ ,” Alex says, immediately, like she was waiting for permission, and that’s  — 

Hamilton is still talking. “Please, touch me, I need you, daddy, you’re so good to me, _thank_ you, your hands, _please_ , I know I’m greedy and I promise I’ll — do you, if you want me to — I just need — ”

Aaron feels dizzy. She doesn’t... this isn’t something she’s ever thought about. She’s never heard Alex beg like this. Like she means it.

“Alright, baby,” she croaks out, sliding her hand between Hamilton’s sticky thighs, pushing them apart. “Alright, that’s — yeah, roll over for me, good girl, I’ve got you,” and then, not sure if it’s the right thing to say, suddenly not sure of anything, adds “daddy’s here,” and Hamilton groans and squeezes her eyes shut. 

**Author's Note:**

> you can also find me, as always, on [tumblr](http://spikenards.tumblr.com).


End file.
